


Terribly Romantic

by unfolded73



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Quiet Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6908188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after being reunited, Emma and Killian manage to find a quiet moment in the midst of the chaos in Storybrooke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terribly Romantic

**Author's Note:**

> This is intended to be a missing scene from 5x22, since a night does go by before Emma and Killian go off on their separate adventures. But before we get to the smut though, there's an aperitif of Captain Snowing fluff!
> 
> I cannot thank j-philly-b enough for the beta, and for convincing me to get into this fandom in the first place. She continues to be a rock star. Also she likely wields a dagger with my name on it.

“Regina’s giving up the search for tonight,” Snow said as she hung up the phone. “She’ll meet us back here in the morning.”

Killian continued to run his hand over Emma’s hair, again and again, enjoying the tactile sensation under his fingertips. She was curled up on the sofa, asleep, her head on his thigh. 

“Probably a good idea,” replied David from where he was poring over a map of Storybrooke. “We’re all exhausted.” He glanced at Killian. “Do you want to take Emma back to her house?”

He didn’t, actually. But he couldn't help thinking back on it, choosing that house. Operation Light Swan: sitting with Henry in a booth in Granny’s and studying the classified ads until he saw the little black-and-white picture and knew that was the house he wanted to share with her. But there were dark memories in that place, and while he was confident that if anyone could banish those memories, it was Emma, Killian wasn’t sure if he was up to starting that process tonight, only hours back from the Underworld. 

“I don’t want to wake her,” he told David.

“Yeah, I don’t think she’s been sleeping much since … you know.”

“Since I died? You can say it, mate, I rather got used to the idea.”

“Since you died. Or, before that, I guess.”

“The Dark One doesn’t sleep,” Killian said, suppressing a shudder at what that had felt like. 

“We’re so glad you’re alive,” Snow said, deflecting any further discussion of Dark Ones. “If I didn’t say before, I’m sorry. It was just a shock to see you, and then all this…” She gestured at the room, the town at large. Never a quiet moment. “But we’re so glad.”

“Bet you never thought you’d be saying that about me,” Killian said.

“A long time ago, maybe, but you’re family now.” Snow smiled and added as if she couldn’t resist saying it, “You’re our daughter’s true love.”

Killian left off stroking Emma’s hair to pull on his ear, embarrassed. “Emma told you about that, did she?” He felt not a little bit trapped, pinned down by Emma’s sleeping body while her parents examined his exposed heart.

“Not that I’ll ever stop keeping my eye on you,” David said with a pointed finger, but his grin belied his words. “Come on, darling, let’s see if we can get a couple of hours of sleep before Neal wakes up.” They excused themselves to the bedroom they shared with Neal’s crib. Killian looked down at the woman sleeping at his side and wished that he could freeze time and just live in this warm moment of belonging forever.

\------

Emma woke suddenly, disoriented, hands grasping, fingernails digging into the nearest object. She inhaled on a ragged gasp.

“Swan?” His voice, calm and concerned, was in her ear. Emma swung around to see Killian sitting on the sofa next to her. Realized it was his knee under her clutching hand. She stared at him in mute relief as her brain caught up on the wheres and whys and hows and convinced her that he wasn’t a dream, he was real and still here with her.

She shook her head to clear it. “I fell asleep?” 

“Aye. You were exhausted.” Emma stood up awkwardly. “It’s still an hour before dawn, Emma, you should try to sleep a little longer before we resume the search for Gold.”

“Okay, but I’m going to get out of these clothes.” She gestured to the stairs that led up to the small nook where her old bed was. “And brush my teeth. Meet you upstairs?”

The loft was quiet, everyone having abandoned the search for a few hours of rest. Staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, Emma grimaced. She barely recognized the woman looking back at her. She still felt the aftereffects of grief on her soul like the image of the sun on her retina. She was exhausted and wired simultaneously, her nerve endings stripped bare. It also felt like she could spend a thousand years sleeping and not get the bone-deep weariness of the last few months burned out of her. But Killian was alive. She said it out loud to the mirror, trying to make it solid and real. “Killian is alive.”

After brushing her teeth, Emma climbed the stairs to find Killian waiting patiently, propped against the headboard, his jacket and shoes removed and laid neatly aside. His hook, disconnected from the brace, lay on top of his jacket. Opening a drawer, she pulled out an old t-shirt and began taking off her funeral clothes. “Didn’t you sleep?” she asked.

“I’m not sleepy. Must be something to do with having been dead. Perhaps my body thinks it’s slept enough for a while.” He watched her undress. There was no obvious lust in his eyes, no raised eyebrow or smirk; he just watched her with unwavering attention, as if he were committing every inch of her to memory. 

Emma joined him on the bed in just the t-shirt and her underwear. Reaching up, she pulled on his necklace until he slid down level with her. Killian rolled onto his side so that they were face-to-face.

“So you just watched me sleep?” she murmured with a lazy smile. “That’s a little creepy, Killian.”

“Not terribly romantic? I thought you might find it terribly romantic.”

Emma threaded her fingers into the too-long hair on the back of his neck and pulled his face close to kiss him. 

The first touch of his lips thrummed something low in her belly, making her squeeze her thighs together. Her brain might be still struggling to process his return, to make sense of the fact that after all the mistakes and heartbreak, an Olympian god of all things had snapped his fingers and given them another chance, but her body seemed to be processing it just fine. The way he smelled, the way his mouth tasted, it made her suddenly crave him with a desperation that struck her breathless. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed for either of them since Camelot and darkness and the Underworld; it may have only been weeks but it felt like months since she’d just laid next to this man and lost herself to pleasure with him.

Emma molded her body against Killian’s, clinging to his shoulders, kissing him with deep swipes of her tongue as she writhed against the rough denim of his jeans. He was passive to her onslaught, but his hand found its way into her hair as they kissed, and she could feel his erection pressing firmly against the thin cotton of her panties. Eventually, Emma broke the kiss on a gasp, breathing the humid air of his mouth as she tried to get a grip on herself. “God, how long has it been?” she murmured against his lips. “I feel…”

Killian seemed just as overwhelmed. “I don’t know, love.”

“I want you,” Emma said, and it broke something in Killian. He rolled her underneath him, his mouth everywhere—on her neck and the angle of her jaw and the top of her breasts after he pulled the neckline of her shirt down. His beard scraped her skin, a pleasure-pain sensation that she relished. His hand dragged down over one of her breasts, down to her stomach and between her legs, over the thin cotton to press against her, sending her spiraling up to the ceiling with desire and joy.

And in that moment, baby Neal started to cry.

“Shit,” Emma whispered, putting her hand over Killian’s where he had started to slide his fingers beneath her underwear, his hand splayed low across her belly. They held still, listening to the sounds from below of Snow singing softly to her baby.

Emma shot Killian an apologetic look, but he leaned close and whispered in her ear, “You just need to be very quiet, Swan. Can you do that?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, eyes flicking between her eyes and mouth and down to his hand.

This wasn't the way this was supposed to go. After his dramatic resurrection to be reunited with his true love, the dashing hero was supposed to sweep her up in his arms and carry her across the threshold and have her in a big, fluffy bed. Make love to her as a gentle breeze ruffled gauzy curtains, everything in soft focus. It wasn't supposed to be sneakily getting each other off in her parents’ apartment like they were teenagers.

Emma decided she didn't care. “Don't stop.”

Killian continued to maneuver his hand under the waistband of her underwear, fingers sliding so easily into the wetness between her folds. He didn’t move them inside her, not yet, just touched her gently, with a quick brush of his middle finger against her clit that made Emma bite down hard on her lower lip to keep from crying out.

Nuzzling against the side of her face, Killian started to whisper to her. “You’re so lovely, Emma. So wet and perfect. And as soon as I can get you properly alone, I plan to spend an eternity with my mouth on you, tasting you, making you come with my tongue.” His words and the combined sensation of his breath in her ear and his fingers between her legs made Emma shudder. She bent her knees, lifting her hips from the bed to encourage him to fill her with his fingers, and Killian quickly complied, dipping in and out of her with two fingers while he continued to brush her clit with his thumb. She could feel the cool press of his thumb ring on her, and she put her own hand over his to encourage him to press harder, go deeper. 

It seemed like no time at all before she was close, helplessly moving her hips in time with his fingers, the wet sound of it almost the only noise she could hear in the quiet room. She turned and lowered her head, buried her face in Killian’s neck, gripping his bicep with the hand that wasn’t guiding his own in pleasuring her. Feeling herself reach that point of inevitability, Emma concentrated on being quiet, not crying out, and still she had to grit her teeth to keep the sounds contained in her throat as she came, her awareness splintering as pleasure overtook her. He slowly coaxed her down, removing his hand before she became overly sensitive and resting it on her belly again, a warm, comforting weight.

As she regained her ability to breathe, Emma took in Killian’s expression, the way he was looking at her with something like awe.

“There you go, drilling a hole in my head with your eyes again.” She reached out and caressed his cheek. “You okay?”

He turned enough to kiss her palm, never taking his gaze off her. “I just never dreamed…” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “When I was in the Underworld I tried to remember every detail of every time you shared your body with me. I didn’t dare hope that I would ever see you like this again, that I would ever feel you come apart under my hand again.” Emma slid her hand around to the back of his head and pulled him close into a kiss. “I love you,” Killian murmured when their lips parted.

Emma wanted to return the favor for him before her own inevitable lethargy took over, so she went to work on Killian’s jeans, unbuttoning them and drawing the zipper down. He kissed her again, sighing as she freed his cock and began stroking him slowly. “Don’t feel like you have to—”

“Shhh.” She kissed him. “Just let me take care of you, okay?”

After a beat he nodded, his eyes closed tight. Emma eased his jeans down his hips enough so that she could get a good angle on him and wouldn’t accidentally damage him with his zipper, before she effortlessly slipped into a well-remembered rhythm. Full, long strokes down to the base and back, gripping him tight but not too tight, just the way he liked. Killian buried his hand in her hair, bringing their foreheads together, and the only evidence of his mounting arousal (other than how hard he felt in her hand) was his harsh breathing. 

She didn’t want to chafe him, so after a minute she stopped touching him long enough to reach down between her own legs, gathering moisture on her fingers before resuming. “Fuck, Swan,” he gasped as her hand slid more easily over his cock. His hips were thrusting now, so Emma gave over control, bracing her elbow against her hipbone and letting him fuck her fist.

When he came against her stomach, she felt his hips stutter, felt his cock pulse in her hand as he whimpered softly. A few more ragged thrusts and Killian stilled. Wiping her palm off on her shirt, Emma sat up and pulled it over her head. She used it to clean them both up before throwing it on the floor and curling into him. Killian pulled her close, his fingertips following the path of her spine, his mouth finding hers for several brief kisses.

“I think we both needed that,” Emma said, letting her fingers thread back into the hair at the base of his skull.

Killian let out a long, slow breath. “I suppose we did at that.”

“Nice as this was, though, I’m very much looking forward to being in our own bed together.”

She watched as one of Killian’s eyebrows went up, disappearing under his hair. “ _Our_ bed?”

“Yeah, at the house? Or do you not want to move in with me any more?” she teased.

“As long as you want me there, my love.”

“What I want,” she said, letting her nose brush against his, “is for the future we’ve been waiting for to actually begin.”

Emma felt Killian smile. “Our future is now.”


End file.
